


Pearls Before Swine.

by BarPurple



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-16 00:03:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1324207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarPurple/pseuds/BarPurple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a high end jewellery store to a pig farm. How did this happen?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pearls Before Swine.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt, (link at the end). Enjoy.

Deep calming breaths, John. Actually scratch that, there was no way he wanted to take a deep lungful of this air. Even with shallow inhales through his mouth he was getting far too much scent of pig farm. As he couldn’t use his normal method for dealing with stress John clenched his hands into fists and stuffed them in his pockets.

Under normal circumstances John liked the country. It was green and calming; a nice place to relax in. There was nothing relaxing about this trip outside the M25. Being woken up at just past three am by a lanky, insane madman who was babbling about pigs wasn’t the way to start a day. Especially, when the previous day had only ended two hours before, thanks again to the lanky madman insisting that he needed you to help him look through hours of CCTV footage from inside a very dull jewellery shop.

Lestrade sauntered over to John and handed him a small green and blue pot. Vicks Vapour Rub. John opened the wonderful tub of menthol and dabbed some around his nostrils. The overpowering stench of pig faded.

“Greg, you are an angel in a rumpled suit, mate. Where’d you learn this little trick?”

“I read Thomas Harris.”

That got a chuckle from John. The two men stood in companionable silence watching Sherlock waving his arms at the forensic techs and local police. Finally Greg asked;

“Any idea how we’ve gone from a jewellery heist in the middle of the city to standing ankle deep in pig shit?”

“Something about an inside job and the fact that one of the staff from the jewellery shop is related to one of the workers here.”

“You weren’t listening were you?”

“I don’t think I was awake while Sherlock was rattling off the logic behind this one. Oh gawd, what’s the bloody idiot doing now?”

The consulting detective had given up trying to explain his theory to the forensic tech and taken matters into his own hands. John watched as Sherlock threw his hands in the air before striding off towards the wall between the yard and the pig-keeping-area. (John would look up the correct terms before he wrote up the blog post.) The beloved coat was flung at an unsuspecting PC, before its owner jumped the wall. There was a squelching sound followed by several more as Sherlock struggled his way across the muck to a trough with a sort of wooden handle thingy. (Honestly John was going to have to ask someone the names of these things.) The onlookers groaned as Sherlock’s pale hand plunged into the muck under the trough. After a few seconds scrabbling around the detective triumphantly heaved a small hold all in to the air.

“Now do you all see?! There goods were hidden here to be picked up later. They could only be under this trough as it’s the only one visibly different to the rest. The person who hid them wasn’t going to be the one retrieving them. Oh come on! It’s obvio. . .”

Sherlock had been making his way back to the wall while explaining. Smart city shoes, however, are not the best footwear for wading in pig muck. Sherlock slipped backwards and landed with a wet splat. The air was then filled with the sounds of laughter from the assembled police and Sherlock’s baritone loudly employing many of John’s favourite curses.

Several hours later Greg pulled up to 221B. Sherlock, naked and barefoot apart from his trusty long coat, flounced out of the car without a word. John, who was gingerly holding a bag containing Sherlock’s ruined clothes and shoes, took a moment to thank Greg for the ride home. John paused on the pavement and turned back to Greg’s car.

“You’ll send me a copy as usual, right?”

“A copy of what?”

The wicked twinkle in Greg’s eye was all the confirmation John needed.

“A copy of the video you managed to take while you were laughing your arse off at Sherlock.”

Greg laughed as he started to pull away.

“Check your email before His Nibs does and make sure you came and do the bloody paperwork in the morning!”

**Author's Note:**

> The Thomas Harris book Lestrade has read is Silence of the Lambs.
> 
> Written for this prompt : http://putthepromptsonpaper.tumblr.com/post/79757859130/your-character-must-walk-somewhere-disgusting


End file.
